Page 132 of Where Roads Lead

The very moment the words left my mouth, Will’s face hardened before my very eyes.

“What?” he asked, as if he could’ve possibly misheard me, despite the only sound in the kitchen being my own, erratic heartbeat.

“Why don’t you want me to date Theo?” I repeated slowly enough to infuriate him.

“Why are we still talking about him?” he gritted out.

“You really hate the idea of me dating him that much?”

“Yes,” he said, jaw clenched hard enough I worried it might break.

“Why?”

“Because the two of you don’t make any sense together!”

“In your opinion,” I dismissed. “Next reason?”

Please make it a good one.

“Because you can do better.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Not good enough. Tell me the truth, Will. Why don’t you want me to—”

“Because I don’t want you to date fucking Theo!” he exploded. “God. Just stop saying his name.”

“Why?” I asked, barely breathing.

“Why what?”

“Is it because he’s a secret psychopath?” I asked, watching as he blew out a slow breath. “Or maybe you’re worried that I’m a secret psychopath out to kill your friend?”

“Elsie,” Will said in a warning tone.

“Or are you basically telling me that there’s no other reason I shouldn’t date Theo other than you not wanting me to?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t good enough.

If he liked me, now would’ve been the time for him to tell me.

Maybe I’d been an oblivious idiot. Maybe he had hated me all along. Maybe the friendship I’d thought we’d shared was really just delusions from the writer’s side of my brain, trying to romanticize something that wasn’t there.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want me to date his friend because he didn’t want me to have any reason to stick around longer than necessary.

Because after all, I was just another girl who needed him. Someone he felt obligated to help, even at his own expense.

A stream of curse words ricocheted through my head, and I mentally berated myself for being so stupid. I opened a cupboard, looking for an emotional support snack, and finding it pathetically bare, slammed it shut.

“Shit!” I yelled, unable to keep the overwhelming feeling of frustration inside of me. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“You’re pissed at me,” he noted.

“No shit.”

“Is that your word of the day, or—?”

“Just go home, Will!” I spun, fighting the urge to growl at him. Fighting the urge to push him out the door myself, because I was scared if I got my hands on him, he’d realize just how stuck on him I actually was.